Quidditch Pitch Compilation Stories
by corvusdraconis
Summary: This is a collection of stories written for the Hogwarts Houses Forums Quidditch Pitch Challenges (which actually have nothing to do with quidditch). It starts with Ottermione, range in length, probably involve HG/SS, and are as random as my head. You have been warned. This is no longer updated, as I have left the group.
1. One of Those Days

**[Summary]** Ottermione Story. Every since Potter, Ron, and Neville blew up a cauldron and turned their best friend into an otter, life for Hermione Granger has never been normal. She's long since learned to change back into a human, but that doesn't stop her mischief! (This story is set in the world of "Glad It Wasn't Me" AU)

 **Quidditch Pitch Prompt:** Blood was splattered on every wall in the room.

 **A/N:** For those of you who haven't read _Glad It Wasn't Me_ story, this story may or may not make perfect sense!

 **One of Those Days**

Blood was splattered on every wall in the room.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and stifled a really long sigh. It was going to be one of _those_ sorts of days.

"Mr Longbottom," Snape growled, sounding more like a irritated T-Rex than a man. "What in name of Merlin's aftershave did you do?"

The wide-eyed boy trembled, his robes, hair, and everything coated in blood. He was crying, and the only reason Severus knew he was doing so was because his tears had cleared the only clean area of his face.

"I blew her up!" the boy wailed. "She's going to haunt me forever!"

Severus, ever the one to take inventory before panicking, mentally ticked off what ingredients he had given the boy to make any of the the potion assignments he had given over the past week. None of them had eviscerations as one of the side effects.

"First, who did you supposedly blow up, Mr Longbottom," Snape grunted. "Second, why are you in my Potions classroom unsupervised?"

Longbottom's lip quivered. "I wasn't unsupervised. Hermione was helping me, like you told her to."

Severus frowned. "Miss Granger is many things, Mr Longbottom, but she is not a Potions idiot. Now why is there blood coating every surface of my classroom?"

"S-she was telling me I was doing it wrong," he babbled. "I got frustrated, told her stop bossing me around, and I—I may have thrown something in the cauldron without thinking."

Snape's eyes smoldered in their sockets, boring into Neville with far more ire than mercy. "Some— _thing_?" he spaced out the words with disdain. "Do you not even know what sort of _thing_ you threw?"

Neville shriveled under Snape's gaze. "No," he squeaked.

"Up to the Hospital Wing and then the Headmaster's office, Mr Longbottom," Severus sneered at him with his eyebrows furrowed. "Once Madam Pomfrey confirms you are not dying of something refreshingly fatal, I hope you have a grand explanation ready for Headmaster Dumbledore on why your classmate will not be joining you anytime soon!"

Neville paled completely, clutching his blood stained books as he fled the classroom.

"And fifty points from Gryffindor for your incompetence!" Snape snarled at his back.

Severus blew the strand of hair out from his face as the fleeing footsteps disappeared down the corridor.

"You can come out now, miscreant," he said softly, waving his wand around to clean the room of the coating of blood. "Count on Neville Longbottom to make perfect human blood by accident and then make it explode."

Squeaking noises came from one of the nearby cauldrons, and Snape cleaned it off and tipped it back over.

A brown head popped out of the cauldron, whiskers twitching. Deep brown eyes locked on his as her webbed paw touched his pale, white fingers.

"Are you satisfied?" Snape huffed, running his finger under her chin. "You have managed to convince your classmate that he has blown you to smithereens, and that you will haunt him for the rest of his life as a ghost." He ran his wand over her, cleaning the blood off her fur.

The fuzzy brown otter stared at him with warm eyes and squeaked, making it sound like a snicker.

"What am I going to do with you, hrm?" Snape said, shaking his head. He scooped up the fuzzy Mustelidae and let her snuffle his face with her whiskers. "If you weren't my familiar, I'd be docking points and having you clean the walls with your bare paws."

Hermione licked his nose.

"Psh," he admonished, placing his finger on her nose. "Don't you have class with Minerva in a few minutes?"

Hermione make a soft grunt and a soft chain of squeaks.

Snape sniffed. "We can go to the ocean after your homework is done, Miss Granger, not before. I won't have Albus accusing me of neglecting your studies just because you are my familiar."

Hermione made a disappointed sound and then jumped out of his arms to the floor with a soft splat. Then, after a second, Hermione was human. She wrapped her arms around Snape's waist and held tight to him.

Slowly, gently his hand laid on her head as a soft expression crossed his face. "You're lucky the door is closed. You know the rules."

Hermione looked up at him and shook her head. "Yes, yes, the students cannot know you are anything but an insufferable, greasy-haired, git!"

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

She smiled at him, unabashed.

"Dungeon bat," Hermione taunted, grinning up at him impishly.

"Hn," he replied. "Away with you, or there will be no urchins for dinner for you."

Hermione smiled, grabbed her books from the nearby table, and scurried out the door with a bounce in her step that seemed so like her otter self.

Snape ran his hand through his hair. "Familiars," he scoffed. He paused a moment as he righted another cauldron. A quirk of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Only Merlin knows what brought you to me, Ms Granger, but… I am glad you here." He stood up, brushed his robes clean, and swept the room and down the hall, his black robes billowing behind him.


	2. Happy Otterdays!

**Summary:** [HG/SS] Ottermione Story — Hermione is faced with the upcoming Christmas holiday

 **A/N:** After writing too much Argus Filch for QLFC, I am feeling utterly uninspired to write anything happy, which is compounded by finals week, lack of sleep, and the desire to blow things up in Heroes of the Storm. *headdesk*

 **Beta Love:** Fluffpanda, the overworked Pasta Goddess!

 **Prompt:** "There is no great genius without a mixture of madness." by Aristotle

* * *

 **Happy Otterdays!**

Severus Snape lifted one brow as a chain of squeaking came from the pile of nearby wrapping paper. One otter head popped out of the pile of crumpled paper, and a spool of ribbon was clenched between her jaws. She squeaked victoriously, leaping out of the pile of shiny holiday paper and bounced down the counter, taking the ribbon with her.

Snape went back to reading his _Treatise on Acromantula Venom_ and flipped to the next page.

Minutes later, the padding of otter feet on the table altered him once more, and the brown fuzziness of his familiar jumped into the pile of Christmas wrapping paper, twine, ribbon, sealing wax, and other miscellaneous. She apparently found a jingle bell, because a few seconds later, the padding of four feet and the ring-ting-ting of a silver bell sounded as she bounded back down the counter.

Severus licked his finger and flipped a page again. Aristotle once said that "there is no great genius without a mixture of madness," and Snape was fairly certain that Hermione's great intellect was countered by her own mixture of madness. In her case it was wrapping Christmas presents in her otter form, or maybe it was doing most of the things most people would do with hands: like brushing her teeth, eating breakfast, and even doing her homework. Ever since being forced into otter form, Hermione Granger had learned to take life in stride, and even after she'd figured out how to change back, she seemed to have learned to prefer otter to human witch. Maybe it wasn't madness at all. Perhaps, it was a sign that she had learned to appreciate life far better for what she had been given. He wasn't sure.

The padding of otter feet signalled her return, and soon after paws were on his hand. Otter jaws worked around his finger, removing his signet ring with surprising ease, and she squeak bounced away victorious.

Severus frowned. What was Hermione up to, anyway? He should get up and check on her project, especially since she'd stolen away his signet ring, but he was both curious and nervous to see what she was up to.

Closing his book, he put it back on the nearby shelf and stood. His eyes scanned the pile of Christmas wrapping paper and decorative items and saw it had been whittled down to almost nothing. What on Earth was Hermione doing?

As he walked across his chambers, he saw a line of beautiful crystal vials and flasks—a testament to Hermione's learning Minerva's transfiguration assignment to perfection—all gathered up together in front of the fireplace. The firelight was casting just enough light to make the liquid inside each of the crystal containers shimmer like liquid diamonds.

Each container had a handwritten parchment label with a name in flowing script. Hermione's handwriting, he had found, had been astronomically more ornate than his had ever been even on a good day. Even more strange, she manage to write using a magic quill as an otter even better than she could with human hands. Show off.

He could tell from the colour of the liquid inside each where the potions they had made together during their lessons were going. Mr. Potter was getting broom wax, and the receiving end of the acne cream was Mr. Weasley. Neville Longbottom was receiving calming draught. Minerva would soon be able to restock her favourite essential oil mixture that she loved so much. Filius was getting their special anti-shaving shaving cream to combat his spontaneous tendency to grow a beard without notice. Black was getting flea-repellent. Hagrid was getting bruise-healing ointment. Lupin would be over the moon when he received his vial of what had become the world's best help for werewolves short of the Wolfsbane Potion: chocolate flavoured drops that did not make the potion ineffective. The cheeky little minx had already completed her Mastery project before she had even graduated. Genius and madness indeed.

A score or more vials and flasks were labelled and ready to go. Everyone they knew had a vial of something. Each had delicate twine tying the parchment to it. Everyone was sealed onto the vials with Severus' signet ring imprinted on sealing wax. She had signed each parchment with her pawprint.

Hermione looked up at him with a happy squeak, standing on her rear feet and reaching her paws up towards him. His signet ring, slightly drooly, was in her mouth.

Severus sighed, leaning down to pick her up. He plucked his damp ring out of her mouth, rubbed it clean on his robes, and put it back on.

"Are you quite through being the Christmas elf-otter?" he asked the young Animagus. "You are ruining my perfectly humbug reputation year after year."

Pleasure radiated from her mind as she squeaked and rubbed against his chest, flopping on her back to expose her belly in invitation.

Severus stroked her soft belly fur with amusement, his lips quirking upward. "Insufferable girl," he muttered.

She chattered at him, rubbing her head against his robes. She wriggled free after a moment and bounced along the ground, squeaking at him to follow.

Severus narrowed his eyes. Now what was she up to?

He followed her. She scrambled up onto a nearby chair and then leapt off it, clambering onto the nearby writing desk he favoured. She squeaked imperiously, standing on her hind legs and swishing her large tail back and forth, scattering some of his papers. She knew what got him to hurry.

Snape hurried, rescuing his papers from her tail, and paused.

There, in the centre of his desk, was a small crystal vial of shimmering gold liquid: Felix Felicis. The parchment tag on it read:

 _Happy Christmas, Professor Snape_

 _Sincerely yours,_

 _Ottermione_

So, she had succeeded in her extra-credit challenge after all. He expected no less from the girl who had succeeded in brewing the polyjuice potion in an attempt to reverse the effects Neville's potion had done to her. That had just turned her into a large anthropomorphic otter, which had been a disaster, but her brewing had been spot on.

Severus picked up Hermione and soothed her fur, hugging her close.

"Happy early Christmas, Hermione," he said softly. He reached into his robe and pulled out a small box.

Hermione squeaked in glee, prying open the box with her paws and teeth. She chattered excitedly as she exposed a necklace with an otter-shaped pendant on it.

Snape lifted it out of the box and put it over her head, watching it resize magically to fit her.

"Now, wherever you go, you will be water and mud repellent," Snape said with a small smile. "No more tracking mud and seaweed into Minerva's office and across Albus' desk."

Hermione squeaked indignantly, but she snuffled his face gratefully, licking his chin with her tiny tongue.

"I suppose you want me to help you take all of these horrible tokens of holiday cheer to the owlery?"

Hermione nodded, squeaking decisively.

"Bossy," Severus muttered.

Hermione wiggled her whiskers at him, brown eyes wide and adorable.

Sighing in resignation, Severus cuddled her. "Very well, but in exchange, you are not allowed to let Black teach you any more profanity."

Hermione made a disappointed sound.

Severus tapped her nose with his pale finger.

She licked it.

Shaking his head, he pressed, "do we have a deal?"

Hermione squeaked and nodded, pressing her paws against his chin as she stared into his eyes.

Severus shook his head. "Happy Christmas, Hermione."

-o-o-o-o-o-o

 **A/N:** Happy Almost-end-of-finals-week-omg-it's-almost-Christmas!

I'll try to be more inspired to work on One-Step and such, but I'm so drained at the moment. Sorry folks! But… Ottermione makes everything better!


	3. A Camera Worth A Thousand Birds

**Prompt:** Colin Creevey (For Quidditch Pitch contest)

 **House:** Slytherin

 **A/N:** Colin isn't my first choice for writing, so I figured Ottermione could have "fun" torturing him. Muahaaaa. So much to do before Christmas... so much... ARRRGH.

 **Beta Love:** fluffpanda, the underappreciated (give her more coffee!)

* * *

A Camera is Worth a Thousand Birds

Harry was in the middle of eating his lunch when Colin Creevey came panting up to the Gryffindor house table. His short and messy, mousey brown hair was all helter skelter.

"Harry!" Colin gasped. "Ron! Neville! Have you seen my camera?"

Ron stared at him with his mouth full of sausage. "W—mmffmfgghat?"

"My camera!" Colin whinged. "I can't find it. I'm going to be in so much trouble!"

Harry, who seemed to read between the lines more quickly than his best mate, looked at Colin suspiciously. "What did you do, Colin?"

Colin looked at him desperately.

Neville leaned over. "He's right," he added. "Who were you taking pictures of?"

Colin looked even more uncomfortable.

Harry, Ron, and Neville stared at Colin with unconcealed suspicion.

"There's only one subject of photographic stalking comes with that look of guilt, mate," Ron said, stabbing another sausage with a fork.

Harry and Neville sighed together.

"You were spying on Hermione again," the pair chimed. Neville rubbed his temples.

Colin sulked. "She's been the focus of curiosity ever since she was apprenticed by Professor McGonagall and became Snape's apprentice. Come on, guys. You know everyone wants to know makes her so special."

Harry scowled. "Colin, let's get one thing sorted. Hermione became Professor McGonagall's apprentice with her skill and dedication. She became Snape's apprentice because Neville turned her into an otter and there was a Familiar bond. One was skill the other was chance."

"Do you think you could get her to take an interview from me?" Colin asked hopefully.

Ron stopped chewing long enough to focus on Colin. "That depends on how badly you annoyed her. What did you do, exactly?"

"I ran after to to ask her some questions, and—" Colin said as he fidgeted, "I stepped on her tail, tripped, and… dropped my camera on top of her."

The three boys stared at Colin with appalled expressions.

Just then, a bright sun conjure landed on Colin's head and squawked loudly, "I'm a clumsy, inconsiderate git!"

Colin tried to shoo the bird away with no avail. The small parrot bit him soundly on the hand. "Rrrrk! Keep your hands to yourself, and watch where you are going!"

"What's with the parrot, Colin?" Seamus asked, echoing the murmurs down the table.

"It's not a parrot," Colin whinged. "It's my camera!"

Even Ron shook his head at the confession. "Mate, you have more to worry about than Hermione letting you interview her. I'd worry about her letting you live down that you stepped on her."

"I'm a bloody dumbass," the parrot squawked. "I have blue polkadotted knickers!"

Giggles went down the table as Colin's face flushed maroon.

"Krrrkk!" the parrot squawked. "I have a crush on Ginny Weasley!"

"What?!" Ronald bellowed.

Colin's face turned white as a sheet as he fled the Great Hall, attempting to swat the parrot off his head. The parrot stuck to him like glue, reciting a stream of consciousness that Colin probably didn't want anyone knowing.

"Watch your feet, people!" the parrot squawked. "Clumsy oaf coming through!"

Neville and Harry exchanged worried glances as Ron turned red for other reasons.

"He better not have a crush on my sister," Ron said with a scowl. I'll have to murder him.

Harry looked up to the High Table and saw Snape and McGonagall talking to each other. His face flushed as he realised if Colin had really done what he said, Hermione's sense of justice was both swift and merciless. She learned from both her Master for efficiency and her bondmate for ruthlessness. Colin was probably lucky none of his parts shriveled and fell off or he ended up with his hands stuck to the first thing he touched in the morning.

Harry had learned the hard way that going to complain to his father or even his "Uncle" Sirius or Remus did nothing to help him. His father just asked what he'd done to deserve it; Remus simply wore the worst wolf-that-ate-the-cat expression as he listened to Harry's woes. Sirius was quite blunt. "I've taught her almost all of my old tricks just to see if she would pester Severus with them, but she was too smart for me. She milked all my tricks out from me then practiced on you." Harry got no sympathy from his mum either. Lily would look at him sternly, saying, "She's a wonderful, bright, young witch that keeps Sev from killing the lot of you. You'll get no sympathy from me, Harry James Potter."

He knew it was hopeless when she resorted to his full name. It was bad enough when the elder Marauders had plotted behind Severus' back and given Hermione's otter form wings every time she wasn't in the water. Now, not only could Hermione reach the top shelf without magic (to get all manner of things from the hidden stash of cookies to the chocolate she was hiding from Remus) but Minerva had trained her like a Owl Post owl, and she now could find anyone and stick her nose into anyplace without setting off wards, at least anywhere an Owl Post owl could go. Harry's mum hadn't stopped calling each one of the elder Marauders by their full names for a month after they had sent Ottermione to deliver anonymous boxes to her sister Petunia's and her noxious husband Vernon's residence. Her sister had apparently screamed and been committed for a month babbling that "giant flying weasels were dropping parcels at her door to corrupt her son with magical filth."

When Dudley had written an elaborate thank you note to James, Remus, and Sirius for the birthday gift about two months later (explaining in the letter it had taken him that long to get to the postbox unseen by his parents), Lily had finally relented and baked the group her famous apology cookies. No one had complained.

Lily's apology cookies were practically used as currency in six out of seven Wizarding nations. Hrm… maybe that was the key.

Harry pulled out a piece of parchment and hurriedly scrawled a message to his mum in an attempt to bring peace back into Colin Creevey's parrot-infested life. He knew he had to be short and sweet to get his mum's cooperation.

-o-o-o-o-o-

 _Dear Mum,_

 _Colin has gotten himself in a pickle with Hermione. He stepped on her tail and then dropped his camera on her. She turned it into an obnoxious parrot that won't stop embarrassing him in public. Could we please get a batch of your famous cookies? It's for the good of Gryffindor! If Colin can't get back into her good graces, we're not going to be able to get a full night's sleep!_

 _Love,_

 _Harry_

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Hey, mate, can I borrow your owl?" Harry asked Ron, knowing that the little owl Sirius had given him liked to sit on his shoulder and go everywhere with him.

"Sure, Harry," he replied. "Emergency letter home?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed as he strapped the parchment to Pigwidgeon's leg. The flighty little owl flew loop-de-loops before darting off in a random direction. Ever since Sirius had given him the owl in apology for mistaking his pet rat for an Animagus and hitting it with about 6 overzealous stun spells with the strength to stun a full-grown wizard. Really it was Ron's own fault for dressing his rat up in miniatures coats. Sure, most of his fur had fallen out, but normal person dresses up their rat in sweaters, coats, and scarves?

Ordinary rats were not built for taking any stuns to the face let alone six, and Ron had inherited the rat from his brother Percy. He had been on his last legs even for a healthy rat. Ron had buried the poor thing in the backyard and insisted on a proper respectful funeral. Harry had been okay until Ron had asked him to say a few words over the rat's death. That had been awkward.

Mr and Mrs Weasley had tried to get him a proper owl for years, but Ron had insisted on taking care of "Mr Whiskers." His whiskers were the only thing he really had left on him. His fur had long since fallen out, and the only one that seemed to love the poor rodent was Ron. He had tried to name the rat Scabbers, but Mrs Weasley had drawn the line.

Enter Pigwidgeon—and everyone blamed Ginevra Weasley for that horrible name. Ron hated how hyper the little blighter was, and any excuse to get him to go off and do something other than pester him was good enough for him.

He was annoying, but damn if he wasn't a fast flyer.

As if on cue, Pigwidgeon returned and dropped a parcel wrapped in cloth. The little owl was panting a little with exertion. He extended his leg with a tired hoot.

Harry took the parchment and unrolled it.

-o-o-o-o-o-

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I took four of these cookies from your mum's secret cookie jar. She's convinced you need to solve your own problems and Colin is no exception, but as man who has been on the receiving end of public embarrassment in front of an entire school, I have more sympathy for the poor bloke. Make them count._

 _Dad_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"What are those, Harry?" Neville asked.

Colin went running by the Great Hall, shooing the air about his head, trying to get the conjure to stop spouting random thoughts to all that could hear. Sun conjures were notoriously loud. Harry was sure Bulgaria could hear him.

Harry sighed. "Bribery for Hermione… for Colin."

"Is is some of that Swiss chocolate she loves?" Seamus asked.

"Mum's apology cookies," Harry answered.

"Bringing out the big wands," Neville muttered.

Harry nodded. "Help me rescue Colin from his camera parrot and we can pray Colin has enough sense to give the cookies to Hermione and not eat them."

"You can hope, mate," Ron said wistfully. "For just one of those cookies, I'd suffer detention with Snape for a week."

Neville swallowed hard. "Not sure I'd go that far."

The gathered friends shuffled out the Great Hall, chasing after Colin.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Far up at the High Table, Ottermione dropped a large decorated parcel between Severus and Minerva with a tired squeak. The parcel was quite large, and even for flying otter of her size, it had been unwieldy.

Severus fingered the parchment tag on the box and grunted, "Happy Christmas to the staff of Hogwarts. Love, Lily Potter."

"Is this what I think it is?" Minerva cooed.

"Every year she sends them," Albus approved, stroking his beard.

"I keep telling her she doesn't have to send them," Filius Flitwick said. "It's not her fault that the punch was spiked at the wedding and turned us all into hippogriffs for three hours."

"Don't tell her that, Filius," Sinestra scoffed as the box of cookies was send down the table for people to share. "She'll stop sending these wonderful cookies every Christmas."

"Lily rarely needs a reason to bake," Severus quipped, taking a bite of a cookie as he handed one to Hermione.

Hermione squeaked tiredly and draped herself over Snape's arm. She nibbled on the cookie with interest, but refused to move further.

Snape drew his hand across her back tenderly. He leaned down and whispered into her ear. "I want you to remove that hex upon Mr Creevey's camera, Miss Granger."

Hermione gave a tired and disappointed squeak.

Snape's lips quirked upward. "Let them give you their gift for apology first. Far be it from me to deny you your due reward."

Hermione squeaked victoriously and licked his finger.

He scratched behind her ears and let a small smile reach his eyes. "Happy Christmas, Miss Granger."

Hermione squeaked happily as both Snape's and McGonagall's hand alighted on her back and stayed there. She snuggled against their combined hands and closed her eyes contentedly. An otter's job was never done, but for now, at least, she was content to bask in the approval she had gained.


End file.
